


Fireworks

by Gee_Writes



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Birthday, Blow Jobs, Christmas, Exams, Fireworks, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Graduation, Living Together, M/M, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 07:00:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gee_Writes/pseuds/Gee_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru has the worst timing in the world – amidst the colourful explosions of fireworks, a busy festival, Makoto painted in a thousand emotions he never wears – in realising he loves his best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireworks

**Author's Note:**

> Commission for Tiffany

_***_

 

“ _...because we all love you.”_

He has the worst timing in the world.

Or, at least, that how it feels when he can hear Makoto's voice crack; when the colours of the fireworks are casting flickering shadows and lights across green eyes. His grip isn't on Haru's wrist anymore, but the skin is burning, aching. Words, barely above a whisper, drilling into his head. There's no anger anymore from Makoto – the bubble popping as quickly as it had risen up – and Haru can feel the tears warbling his best friend's voice. Scratching harsh against his ears as the fireworks fight to be heard. He feels like being sick, he feels like crying, and all he can think to do is run.

Haru has the worst timing in the world – amidst the colourful explosions of fireworks, a busy festival, Makoto painted in a thousand emotions he never wears – in realising he loves his best friend.

Years and years they've been together, and it's now, with the world shattering around him, that Haru finally realises; every thoughtful touch, the lilt of his name in Makoto's mouth, the easy comfort of non-conversation and understanding. Realising that he doesn't just love Makoto as his best friend, the small boy who would hide in Haru's shadow, bite back tears if he scraped his knees as they learnt to ride their bikes together; but as the amazing, incredible young man he's become – reliable and strong, empathetic and so, so forgiving.

Pink and green and blue explode in their final burst above their heads, and Haru's last shred of indifference and denial burst with them. Makoto just looks weary, defeated, at a loss; and Haru doesn't feel much different. Trying to escape the choking emotion of the situation as the distance between himself and his neighbour grows. Doesn't look back at the pained call of his name, so sorrowful and sad. So helpless. Leaving Makoto behind before he can do the same to Haru.

He hates this; and it's all his fault, as usual.

Haru doesn't dare open his eyes as he runs; relying on muscle memory to take him home. Doesn't bump into too many festival patrons; not stopping to apologise even if he does. Stomach bumping up and down, feeling as if it's full of stones, a heavy lump at the back of his throat as he bites the inside of his cheek to fight off the tears. He can't regulate his breathing like he should when running – gasping, out of breath, too choked-up to get any meaningful amount of air in his lungs.

The familiar stone steps of the shrine twist between their houses. Pausing to catch his breath at the foot of the stairs, he's right next to the western-style Tachibana home. A warm light glows from the upstairs window – Makoto's reading light he sometimes leaves on – and it's not the first time Haru's seen the small beacon through open curtains. A tiny lighthouse, a sign of how close Makoto has always been, guiding. He wants to yell, wants his thoughts to spill and be swallowed up by the vast night sky, glittering with stars. To despair in how alone he feels in this moment.

The key fumbles a little before opening the slide lock, and Haru can't quite see through the tears that have welled up. He ran all the way home; but rather than feeling better, the quiet of the old building just serves as a reminder of how empty the large house is. The closing of the door behind him echoing down the hall.

Toeing off his shoes at the door, he doesn't bother with any of the lights. Heading up the staircase as soon as he finds the handrail; he hasn't eaten anything for hours, but the roiling of his stomach doesn't really encourage the idea. Foregoing his bath; dumping clothes and bag on the floor before crawling into bed. The sounds of the festival are drifting; and even here, curled up in the blankets of his bed, the taiko drums manage to beat incessantly, almost in time with his heartbeat.

Haru doesn't like to think of himself as isolated – he's happy living by himself; refused the offer to join his parents in Tokyo more times than he can remember. But the thought of Makoto leaving; of graduating and moving and finding a much larger world than the tiny town of Iwatobi, has him scared. Because Makoto's all Haru's ever needed, even if he hadn't fully realised it before tonight.

That he had assumed they would go to the local university in Tottori, together. Get office jobs and live totally uninteresting lives, drinking together after work hours. That nothing will have to change, despite graduation and growing up.

Haru's not sure how long he's been crying, but the tears are leaving tracks down his face – blanket scratching as he tries to scrub them away. He's a little hoarse, and it only serves as another reminder of their fight; fresh memories replaying again and again and again. Self-loathing burning deep in his gut. Everything feels wrong, and he just wants to stay in bed for the rest of forever.

He wants to apologise – has since the moment he'd realised the awful things he'd said – but he's not sure he could ever give Makoto the apology he deserves; never been very good with turning his thoughts into words. And hating himself that he can't be happy about Makoto finding his dream; becoming the man he's always been, whilst Haru clings to the familiar. Wanting them to stay together, for as long as possible.

It's a selfish wish – and he knows that – but he doesn't _care_.

He hasn't cried in years – not since his Grandmother died, collapsing in their small garden as she fed the cats; not since the silent tears he shed quietly, privately, after the fact, when he thought he'd ruined his friendship with Rin that first year of middle school. But tonight, he can't keep the sadness aching in his bones inside – because Makoto was a constant he never realised he had been relying on. A bigger part of his life, his heart, than he'd ever understood before tonight.

Haru loves him, and it hurts so much to realise that.

 

***

 

The only reason Haru answered the door is because he could tell it wasn't Makoto.

Knows the brunet wouldn't knock so loudly, so impatiently; wouldn't mash the doorbell in an attempt to catch his attention. If it was Makoto, he'd slip in quietly through the back door after his attempt at knocking failed. The door is rarely locked, and even if it was, he knows where the key is.

No; instead of the gentle giant of a boy – green eyes and inherent concern – it was Rin. Prickly personality, zealous in the way that made you know he's worried. He grabbed Haru's hand and packed him a bag – international tickets booked for them both, much to Haru's surprise.

He feels a little crazy – Rin's impulsive rush to the airport hitting him like a wave. Haru has a lot of experience with 'getting lost in the flow', but this feels more like being dragged to sea by a riptide. The strange reality as realisation hits him that yes, he was actually being dragged to another country (mostly against his will) by his sharp-toothed friend.

He sleeps the entire first flight; exhausted from the night before, lying awake, not wanting to sleep in fear of the memories he might be subject to. Walking closely behind Rin as they change planes in Hong Kong, confused and a little overwhelmed. He's not sure how his friend knows where they're supposed to be going, but the younger is the only one of the pair with international travel experience, so Haru just stays quiet.

It's the morning of the next day by the time they land in Sydney; customs and quarantine lines holding them up even longer before they can leave the airport. A tired customs officer keeps asking him something that he doesn't understand – his accent and the speed he's speaking very different from anything he's learnt in English class. For the first time in his life, he's willing to let Rin intersect on his behalf.

*

Bondi Beach is beautiful – the sand white and fine, rather than the yellow he's used to on the shores of Iwatobi. Blue skies, despite being the middle of winter; and the ocean glitters turquoise and indigo, like a painting. He's sure Makoto would find it amazing, and the thought just makes him curl into his raised knees a little more.

“Oh, that reminds me; so Makoto's finally decided on his plans after graduation,” feet kicking up salty spray as the waves flood around his ankles. “He told me he wanted to tell you as soon as possible.”

Haru is surprised, but he really shouldn't be. Maybe it's because Makoto just fits into the conversation so easily, and it just makes Haru feel worse. Because _of course_ Makoto wanted to tell him right away; wasn't trying to leave him behind – it was just his thoughtfulness towards Haru's childish self-obsession that stopped him.

Haru's been trying to figure out how to apologise this whole time – from the second since he'd snapped, spilling toxic thoughts that he'd never meant – but it seems even more urgent now. He left Iwatobi for a change of pace, to avoid seeing Makoto, but it seems so juvenile now. It aches a little, right in the centre of his chest. Waves crash behind Rin, feet sinking into the sand.

He doesn't swim; didn't pack a swimsuit, and for the first time in a while, Rin looks shocked – surprised at how affected Haru seems by recent events, even if he doesn't know the full extent of them. Toothy friend offering a hand up, Haru pushes himself up instead; not comfortable with how reminiscent the gesture is – it feels like a breach of trust if he took Rin's hand, somehow.

*

Russell and Lori are very nice. Caring and welcoming; people who opened their home to a relative stranger and raised him like real family. Thier Japanese is broken but heartfelt, and Haru tries his hardest to wrack his memories for phrases from years of compulsory English classes. Aside from the basic introductions and some pretty simple responses, he's drawing a blank. He'd be totally screwed without Rin acting as middle-man.

Dinner is full of seafood, and despite the thoughtful gesture, the mackerel isn't anything like he's used to; not sure he likes the western way of cooking it. Rin and his host parents are laughing over some shared memory; the redhead flushing in embarrassment as he exclaims in English.

“ **It's nothing like that, Lori; I don't have time for a girlfriend.** ” Looking to Haru desperately, hoping he'd back him up. He just blinks in response, confused.

“Tell her I don't need a girlfriend; I'm too busy swimming,” switching to Japanese flawlessly. Haru can't help the smirk.

“The shark teeth aren't helping your chances, though.”

“Asshole,” frown betrayed by the way his mouth twitches into a smile. “This is the first time I've seen you smile this trip.”

Sharp elbow nudges in his side, pushing a little huff of a laugh when he realises Rin is right; that even halfway across the globe, the guilt consuming him. That leaving Iwatobi hadn't really changed anything; Makoto still the forefront of his thoughts.

“ **...and what about you, Haru? Are you dating anyone?** ” The only words he recognises from the older woman are his name and dating – which, with green eyes and warm smiles in his mind, automatically makes him blush at the connection.

“ **That looks like a yes.** ” The blonde woman giving a sly smile from across the table, Rin needlessly translating the simple sentence a half-second after.

“ **N-no, ma'am.** ” He's not dating anyone; not for lack of recent want, though.

" **Oh, you boys are no fun.** ” Sighing in defeat to the two teens. Her husband chuckles as he stands, clearing the dinner dishes, and Rin looks conflicted on whether to stand and help his host father or to stay as a translator for his friend and host mother. Ultimately, he stays seated beside Haru.

Russell returns soon afterwards, a large serving plate in his hands. The white cake is topped with fresh cream and winter fruit – grapes, pomegranate, oranges, pears and a green fruit he doesn't recognise. Kiwi, Rin supplies when he asks.

He's not a huge fan of sweet things, so he cringes a little at the large slice he gets, but Rin promises he'll love it.

And surprisingly, he does. The meringue base is light and fluffy – sweet, but not overly so. A crunchy outside, and a soft fluffy middle. A dessert he could see himself making; knows Makoto would love it too, sweet-tooth that he has.

“ **Do you like it, Haru?** ”

“ **Yes** ,” not sure how to elaborate more with his lack of language skills.

“It's called pavlova,” Rin explains, “and you can use any fruit you like on it – whatever's seasonal. Strawberries, peaches, banana; passionfruit is the best, too. I've even seen people sprinkle with shaved chocolate or biscuit crumbs too.”

“ **I can give you the recipe, if you'd like, Haru?** ” Soft smile as she brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Smiling wider when Haru nods, eager. “ **You'll have to write it out, Rin; I'll just get the recipe.** ”

Haru sits and reads Rin's handwriting over his shoulder, paying attention to when the Australian woman adds a note to the recipe – be careful with the level of vinegar added at this step; whip until the peaks are stiff, but not over-mixed; make sure it's cooked, but not brown – he's sure he can cook this cake. It's simple, and the ingredients are pretty basic. He folds the translated recipe into his bag, bowing in thanks to Lori – she just waving off the need for such formality.

They stay for a few more hours afterwards – Russell pulling out some photos of Rin during his Australian High School years. Awkward school pictures in the white shirt, red tie combination of the uniform. Cocky grin and sunglasses, grouped amongst friends as they look like they're about to go surfing. A group shot of the swim team – Rin sitting in front, cap and goggles in one hand. He looks happy, despite all the frustration; Haru's glad.

 *

Later, when he's back-to-back in their double bed in the hotel, after Rin's admitted he respects him as a rival – that he's been Rin's goal for a long time – it makes him think, reflect on whether he's the same. If he has ever had a goal, like Rin has. Nothing immediately comes to mind, but the lingering echoes of his fight seem to chastise him over that. There hasn't really been much on his mind for the past few days _except_ Makoto, despite his best efforts.

And he hates this; feeling so unsure about everything. He thought being in love was supposed to be a good feeling – not this sickening uncertainty. Just squeezing his eyes shut tighter, curling a little more into himself at the memory of his best friend.

He listens to the traffic passing on the street below; cities are so noisy, even so late at night. They're near the harbour, but he can't hear the sea – drowning in the sounds of urban living, and he's feeling far from home.

Even though he's sharing a bed, it's not warm.

*

The Olympic pool is amazing – from the block it stretches out as far as he can see, glistening water inviting. Even thought the Australian Olympic team is a few feet away, he doesn't really feel anything aside from the gravitas of the chlorinated pool before him.

He races with Rin, cutting through the water with ease – feeling lighter than he has in months. The suit he's wearing isn't one of his own, doesn't fit quite so well, but he barely notices once he's swimming.

The rush pushes him forward, and his blood is racing, heart soaring. He can taste the determination from the lane beside him, and it encourages him faster, _faster_ , _**faster** _. Arms arching, legs kicking, his breath is leaving in bursts – he has no idea how close Rin is to him, but the tension bursts as he touches the tiled wall of the other end. Adrenaline pumping, he can feel the smile on his face – unworried at who's won or lost between them – seeing Rin smile, his cocky way of trying to prove he was the faster. Blue eyes turning to the diving block, expecting to see –

Nothing.

No outstretched hand, no welcoming warmth. No kind green eyes hidden as he smiles at Haru's win. Haru's hand hangs in the air, not fully prepared to drop it yet, and it shocks him how swept up in the moment he was to forget that Makoto wasn't here. Wouldn't be there to pull him from the water; congratulating him on his win, or marvelling at the grace of his swimming. Haru's lost something; _'it's meaningless without you'_ echoing from the depths of memory. He finally fully understands, fully appreciates what Makoto had told him that stormy summer's night – the shock still too deep in his bones at the time.

He wants to see Makoto. Wants to apologise. Finally thinks he knows how to.

*

The Opera House is painted in the purples of sunset, sleek and graceful across the harbour. Gulls cry overhead, and it's so familiar Haru can almost smell the sea-breezes of Iwatobi. Rin's leaning against the handrail of the path, smiling at something Haru doesn't share a memory of. He smiles too anyway.

“Did you figure something out this trip, Haru?” Wind blowing long hair, eyes to the sky. “Was it worth it?”

He hums yes, nodding when Rin looks to him. He _has_ figured out something important. It's probably not what his friend wants to hear, though.

“I'm sorry, Rin; I can't be the rival you deserve.” Commuters are making their way home around them, chatting loudly amongst themselves. Rin looks shocked, but he doesn't say a word; a pocket of silence in the fading of the day. “But you're good enough to not need me as a goal.”

“Haru...”

“I'm glad you brought me here, Rin. I finally realised that I was letting other people try and decide things for me, when it needed to be my responsibility.” The water of the harbour laps against the wall they're next to, soothing and regular. “I'll always love swimming, Rin; and I'll always love swimming with you – but we belong in different worlds.”

Rin doesn't look like he's about to cry like Haru was expecting; instead, smiling a little, sharp teeth biting his bottom lip. Turning to look at the way gold illuminates the harbour bridge in the dying light as the sun sinks behind them. “You've changed, man.”

“Maybe.”

*

Their flight arrives in Tokyo mid-morning and he's still stiff from the cramped quarters. He doesn't know how his friend seemed so comfortable in the tiny economy seats. His duffle's slung over his shoulder, only slightly heavier with souvenirs.

Customs seems much quicker, but it might have to do with him actually understanding what the guard is asking him.

The bustle of the Narita Airport feels familiar now, but he wants to just stretch out and relax after the whirlwind of the past three days; and the stressful weeks before that, too. Maybe he'll visit his parents before having to leave Tokyo.

He's so absorbed in trying to remember which train line connection he'd have to take, it's not until he hears his and Rin's names being called out from across the arrivals hall that he realises there's someone waiting for them. Someone to welcome them home.

He should have known.

Makoto's smiling, green eyes not quite closed as Haru can feel himself being assessed. Haru's so glad to see him; even more so to see that none of the cruel things he'd said during their fight had seemed to linger. He doesn't quite know what to say – where to start in his apology – and everything he'd mentally prepared seems to have disappeared. Although, instead of the panicked uncertainty he was anticipating, he's hit with an overwhelming surge of emotion at the simple way Makoto greets him; a simple assurance that everything would be OK.

“Welcome home.”

And Haru knows. Even though he still has to properly apologise, even though the race they've been working all year, all last year for is almost upon them. He knows that things will be fine; that he'll find a dream in his own way, and decide his future for himself. That no matter what, he'd finally catch up to Makoto.

He isn't scared of the future anymore.

“I'm home.”

*

They all cry after they win their race – sixth fastest time overall, the sixth-fastest team in the entire country – and Haru doesn't deny it afterwards. Damp skin clinging as they huddle into a hug, the crowd cheering, roaring. Bright orange 1 next to Iwatobi on the scoreboard.

They did it. They won. The four of them.

Together.

 

***

 

Classes start up again once summer ends; the western winds colder at the change of season. So too with the end of warm weather, Haruka and Makoto have to retire from the team. Only two semesters remain until graduation, and both need to focus for university exams.

They have a small retirement party beside the pool, blue water sparkling under the autumn sun. It's a far cry from the sad, empty shell of the year before, and it's a little amazing how far their small team has come in only two years.

Nagisa cries a lot, despite both Haru and Makoto still attending school regularly, eating lunch with them most days; the blond cheering loudly when Makoto passes his title of captain to Rei, who stands shocked. Who he thought Makoto would pick instead, Haru has no idea, but it's obvious the younger teen wasn't expecting it. He stands ramrod straight, chest puffed a little, promising to take good care of the team. Makoto smiling in his soft way, responding with “I know you will.”

Kou gives them both good luck charms for their studies, and Miss Amakata gives a speech almost as convoluted as it is heartfelt. Even Coach Sasabe makes an appearance towards the end – patting their backs in pride, wishing them both a great future. Slyly pressing a small silver key into both their hands when the rest of the swim club is distracted.

Once classes start, Makoto enrolls in cram school; four afternoons during the week, and almost all of Saturday, hoping to raise his average scores as much as he can. His English marks are barely better than average, so conversational class has been his main focus. Universities in Tokyo, he had quickly discovered, demanded much higher scores than tertiary schools in Tottori did. Even at his preferred school, specialised for sports science, he wouldn't be able to slack off on seemingly unrelated subjects.

Haru's only attending cram school with his best friend twice a week; the off-days spent at his new part-time job – kitchen hand at the local restaurant; seafood, understandably, their specialty. He's already risen from dish-washer to prep-work; and Takamura-san, the chef, has been instructing him in refining his self-taught skills.

He'd visited the Tsukiji Fish Market whilst staying with his parents the few preceding days after the national competition, curious; and amongst the hundreds of stores and stalls, something clicked. An unexpected excitement growing from the pure energy of the place. Filleting knives glittering in store windows, the cries and calls of the tuna auctions mingling with the general noise of visitors. He'd never considered making his enjoyment of cooking – more a pleasant necessity than anything – into a career before that moment; but all of a sudden, nothing makes more sense. It's the start of something close to a dream, something he _wants_ to do. Something he found for himself.

He has a plan now, but he needs the experience to get there; wants to be as ready as he can be before sharing the news with Makoto. Doesn't want to get ahead of himself, or have his hopes too high.

The days bleed into each other, and the time passes quickly. His nights are later than he's used to, so the early mornings for school leave him tired; his yawns just mixing with the dozens from his classmates – all studying and working hard in preparation for graduation.

He's even been decreasing his soaking times in the mornings, those precious extra minutes of sleep making all the difference. Makoto rarely finds him in the bath anymore; instead, he's usually in the kitchen, finishing bento for the two of them, practicing. He's been missing the water, but Coach Sasabe's gift – his own personal key to the ITSCR – means that he can't complain. Able to swim whenever he wants, if he has the time. And he's amazed at how much lighter he feels in the water now; floating, weightless, happy.

*

They're studying at his house; the twins, despite their good intentions, are too much of a distraction. Mid-semester exams are coming up, three days of testing in the next week, and both teens are quizzing themselves on vocab words.

Makoto is hunched over his book, glasses slipping down his nose, and Haru can't remember any of the words he's supposed to be memorizing. Can't stop staring at the familiar way his friend chews his lip in concentration, like he hasn't seen it a million times before. Green eyes flickering up to look at Haru when he feels him staring, chuckling.

“Bored?”

Haru just closes his eyes, smiling, letting Makoto make up his own mind. The afternoon sun is making him drowsy – the late nights at the restaurant catching up to him – and he folds his arms to rest his head on, slumping down. If he listens very carefully, he can hear the musical ring of a windchime someone's left out – the last moments of summer clinging to the town.

“How about we get some lunch after these last questions, Haru?” Flipping through the workbook, assessing how much longer the topic might take.

Blue eyes open slightly, catching his friend's eye; the warmth of the room making his stare feel heavier than normal. Pink blush dusting sun-browned skin, and Haru feels an overwhelming urge to get closer to the other boy – close enough to feel the heat from his skin, to lean in and, and...

Groaning he turns his head downwards, breaking eye contact.

“I'll make it,” pushing himself upright, scrubbing at his eyes, hoping to push away the muggy thoughts floating through his head. Trying to smother a small yawn as he does. The paper that had been caught beneath his arms looks a little creased now, but Haru doesn't really care.

“I didn't mean that; we could grab something from the convenience store.” Folding the arms of his glasses as they're put down in their case; the rest of the English questions forgotten for the moment. Haru's trying to remember how long Makoto's worn glasses – whether the black frames have always emphasised the green of his eyes so well.

“Waste of money. It's no problem for me to make something.” It's an easy excuse, and he's thankful for anything to try and distract himself from gawping over the boy sitting across from him. There's fresh tuna in the fridge, rice already in the cooker downstairs; an easy meal.

Makoto smiles, a silent apology for inconveniencing him; Haru's heart stuttering, blood pumping a little faster, blue eyes flickering to the side. He wants to tell him that it's no problem again, but he's distracted by the million motes catching the sunlight behind the brunet, golden in the day.

It's so easy like this, comfortable and uncomplicated. Haru wants this moment to last a little longer, just a few seconds more – but Makoto sneezes unexpectedly, breaking the quiet and catching Haru off guard, jumping a little. Both giggling at the unexpectedness; the nostalgic feeling of their younger years, doing the same things.

Well, time to make lunch.

*

Exam results are posted in the hallway outside their class – dozens of students crowded around, cheers and sighs of relief and groans of disappointment filling the air. Haru's stuck at the back, waiting for the crowd of people to disperse before he can check his own results; hoping that all his study was making a difference, even if it isn't strictly necessary for his school of choice – a fallback plan, just in case

Makoto's waiting patiently with him, the two leaning against the window. Haru can tell he's nervous – oddly stiff as he tries to keep calm – but knows his best friend would never admit it; presses into his side slightly in support, subtle enough that their peers wouldn't be able to tell. Can feel the way his best friend relaxes a little, smiling wanly in appreciation.

“You'll be fine.”

“I hope so...” Although he doesn't sound convinced. Fingers fiddling and intertwining with each other as the time passes.

The crowd recedes soon enough, and Haru takes the first step towards the board – eyes scanning the page for their names. Spotting his, he just nods – he did about as well as he expected – and just smiles when he sees Makoto's. The tall teen is still by the wall, eyes squeezed shut.

“Makoto, come here.” He does, although much slower than usual – coming to stand aside the freestyler. Haru just points to the first column of names, “look.”

Third in their year – _Tachibana Makoto_.

Haru can hear the gasp of disbelief, the exhale of relief that peters out into a whine. Large frame completely relaxing, hand moving to cover his mouth, his smile. Haru's eyes flicker back to his own name; farther down than Makoto's, but still higher than previous exam marks – cram school and extra study worth all the effort. His friend is laughing like he can't believe it, the tenseness from before slipping away, and Haru just smiles at him, proud.

*

A bicycle bell rings from somewhere ahead, their footsteps uneven against the pavement. The sea-breeze has come in for the afternoon, and the chill tickles cold against his ears – almost time for him to start wearing his scarf again. Friday afternoon, and the school week over for the third years.

It's the one afternoon during the week Makoto doesn't have cram school, so they're walking home together – bags on their back, a comfortable silence between them; Makoto interjecting every so often to wonder aloud, Haru just humming or nodding in response. A return to their normal routine.

He's been meeting with Miss Amakata a lot recently – talking about his future plans, and how to reach them – and finally, with his high test scores and a reference from Takamura-san, he's confident enough to share his news. Watching Makoto from the corner of his eye, something about this moment seems perfect; his brunet friend just humming a little in the quiet of the afternoon, happy crinkles in the corner of his eyes. Large hand swings a little and Haru sees his opportunity – reaching out to grab it before he fully realises what he's doing. Heart freezing as they both stop walking; Makoto looking to their joined hands before moving to Haru's face. There's a moment where Haru feels like he can't feel his entire arm, swiftly followed by warm tingles; blush creeping up his neck, his ears, as Makoto continues to look at him.

“Are you OK, Haru?” Concern at the corner of his features, settling into the skin. Haru takes a deep breath. They've stopped at the end of the beach, closest to their houses – only a little longer until the stone steps start. It's now or never.

“There's something I want to tell you.”

“What is it?” Makoto's only a little surprised; perhaps expecting a little more prompting before the other would say anything, but Haru's decided to be upfront. No more avoiding things.

“I've found my dream.” Now the brunet really does look shocked; a half-second before a blinding smile breaks on his face.

“R-really? That's great news, Haru-chan.” Something about his sincerity has Haru's heart working overtime; Makoto so genuine in his congratulations.

“I've known for a while now, but I wanted to make sure it was possible before telling you. Sorry.” Saying it out loud seems to solidify it, and it's almost a relief to tell someone else his plans. Haru had had nightmares that everything would fall through, that he'd be stuck in Iwatobi whilst Makoto left, forgot about him. Irrational, he knows, but he'd never claimed to be rational.

“Don't apologise for that, it's OK.” Smile soft, the same one he'd had when telling Haru his dream of becoming a swimming coach, to teach kids. Haru wants to feel it against – no, not the time. He has to focus.

“I'm going to try for culinary school.”

He can see the exact moment his words register for his friend, eyes glittering in a fantastic way, mouth gaping a little. Stepping closer as he says, “that's amazing! I know you can do it, Haru.”

Now for the important part.

“In Tokyo.”

“Huh?”

“I'm trying for culinary school in Tokyo, Makoto.”

It's silent – no sound of waves on the shore or the song of local birds; no delivery trucks passing. The world has stopped for them, and Haru can't breathe; not yet.

“That's – that... Really?” Eyes wide as he looks into blue, unwavering.

“Yeah.”

“Haru...” Lost for words, sentence trailing into nothingness. Haru feels like they're stuck in a bubble; not sure if he wants it to pop.

“Ever since you said you were going, I couldn't... I realised...” Stumbling over what he wants to say; decides to start again. “I don't want to be without you, Makoto.”

He hopes his friend can understand the subtext; read between the lines for all the things Haru doesn't have the words or the finesse of language to say. His gut twists, painful. Hand sweaty, still clasped in Makoto's.

“Me too...” the younger starts; voice shaking a little, like he can't believe what he's admitting. “I want to always be by your side, if you'll let me, Haru.”

Time starts up again, and Haru can feel all five of his senses working overtime. He feels torn between crying and screaming – but more than anything, he's happy; the smile shining in his eyes rather than on his face. Swept up in his own distracting thoughts – the boy in front of him so mesmerising in the way his expression changes as he realises – he's not prepared for what Makoto says next, barely above a whisper.

“Can I – can I kiss you?”

He can feel his whole face aflame now, screwing his eyes shut before nodding once, determined. Eyes darting to check there aren't any unwanted bystanders; the street completely devoid of people aside from themselves. A large hand comes to touch his face, cupping his cheek, and Haru blinks in surprise – almost amused to see Makoto as red in embarrassment as himself, Adam's Apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. Green eyes dilate as he watches them, the taller leaning in close enough that his exhale brushes over Haru's over-heated skin. The sea-breeze is probably still blowing cool, as ever, but he can't feel it in the proximity of Makoto.

His lips aren't exactly soft, but they feel plush against Haru's; he's entertained the thought of drawing them – the shape and curve committed to paper – but instead, he's made the snap decision that he'd much rather experience them first-hand, like this. A little hum, a little moan, tingling the back of his throat as the moment stretches on.

He doesn't know how long it's been when they pull apart, but he wants another kiss as soon as the last's finished. It may have only been a minute, but things have changed now. They crossed the line together, and Haru never wants to look back – can see the way Makoto's focused on his lips, that he isn't the only one. Smiling a little once his best friend seems more aware of himself, Haru squeezes the hand he's still holding; heart mimicking it when Makoto does the same.

He takes a moment to collect all his remaining courage; although with Makoto, he's not sure why he's so nervous. Leaning into the younger's touch, he breathes deep – the familiar smell of salt and sand, mixing with Makoto's usual tones of orange and chocolate. A million memories blending into something new.

“Come over.” Not really caring how it sounds, even with Makoto's first response being his jaw falling slack.

“H-huh? Haru?”

“I'm working tonight, but there's still time before that.” Can see how confused Makoto is; the other teen not sure how to handle all these new developments. “We should talk.”

Realisation sparks, a little nod in agreement. “Yeah. Yeah, we should.”

They walk home, hand in hand, and Haru feels like he's soaring.

*

The door slides shut, and both boys deposit their shoes and bags in the genkan.

Haru breaks the hold on their intertwined hands to allow his friend to take a seat in the living room – goes to the kitchen himself to brew some tea. Makoto knows the Nanase household as well as his own, so it's without any prompting or instruction that he sets up the low table to sit at; grabs the floor cushions from the closet. Cushion set beside him for Haru once he returned with tea and rice crackers.

Haru pours for them both, sliding Makoto's usual cup towards him. Their shoulders are brushing, the slight touch sending a tingle down his arm, and he decides to focus on his own teacup rather than the boy he'd been kissing just a minute before.

A stalk is floating upright in his cup; a sign of good luck.

“So, we're...”

“Talking.”

Hands curled around the warm porcelain, stuck with how to actually _start_ talking about all the things he wants to. The ticking of the clock the only thing breaking the thick atmosphere as the two stare down into their beverages.

“When did you know?” Haru's the one who started all this, so he should be the one to ask the first question, he thinks. Asks something he's actually pretty curious about.

“Well, I. I think I've known for a while – since middle school, maybe – but I didn't really acknowledge it right away.” His voice is smooth but subdued; a gentle cadence that Haru can only recall from half-remembered instances. “But it wasn't until, uh, last year... during the training camp... that I really accepted it.” Makoto's smiling, despite the admission – the mention of something Haru had never wanted to relive, something that had scared him for weeks afterward – eyes focused on a further point than his tea. “I didn't want to force my feelings on you, though, so I wasn't going to mention it.”

“Sorry I didn't realise until recently.”

“I was trying to hide it, so don't be,” half-laugh punctuating his sentence.

“You're not as good an actor as you think you are,” looking at Makoto for the first time since they've sat; leaning into his left side, “it was pretty obvious once I stopped being stupidly dense.”

Groaning, Makoto just hangs his head. “Don't say that...”

“I'm glad. I wouldn't have said anything either if you hadn't been obvious.” A thousand shared moments, even in the past handful of weeks, that had left little doubt in Haru's mind.

“Oh, well then, good thing I'm a bad actor; that would have been awful.” Smiling cheekily, Haru's chest feeling tight as his best friend stifles a laugh. Brunet sipping at his tea as Haru watches the slight shift of skin over the muscle in Makoto's hands. “What made you decide on a culinary school, Haru?”

“Would you believe me if I said a fish market?” Realising how ridiculous it sounds out loud.

“That doesn't surprise me in the slightest,” Makoto chuckles; “I'd actually be more surprised if it was anything else.” Chin resting against the heel of his hand, elbow propping him up; brown hair just a little too long – enough to fall into his eyes at the shift. Haru puts down his drink, biting the inside of his cheek as he turns towards Makoto.

“But you're the only reason I chose Tokyo.” Blue eyes diverted to the table, acting like the uneven wood grain of the tabletop is the most interesting thing he's ever seen. Doesn't want to be so forward-facing with that admittance. It's too quiet for a little too long, and Haru feels like he might pass out.

“Haru?” The younger breaking the silence. Makoto's head is off his hand where it was leaning; voice changed, a completely different tone from before. Heavy, pressing against his skin, ringing in his ears.

“Yeah?”

“Can we stop talking now?” Turned towards him, legs shifted.

“What do you –” cut off with a kiss, drinks forgotten as they melt into the feeling. Pressure shifting as their jaws move, uneven breathing escaping in small huffs. Haru finds himself tilting backwards a little, and Makoto's arm is at his back, keeping him close. His eyes are closed, but every other sense is working on overdrive – completely filled with Makoto. Warm tongue traces the seam of his mouth, and Haru lets it in; slick and wet and hot, and he's a little lightheaded. The sensation so different from anything he's ever known; by far his favourite.

And this time when the taller breaks away – cheeks pink, mouth open as he catches his breath – Haru dives right back in, moving closer, eyes shuttering closed. Strong fingers are in his hair, petting, tangling, and Haru unconsciously moves to the touch – likes the pleasured zip it runs down his spine. Neither boy has any real finesse as they move their lips, slide their tongues; but the feeling, the intimacy, is more than Haru could have ever imagined. Surprising himself with a moan when Makoto bites his bottom lip gently.

There are three hours until he has to leave for work; he plans to make the most of them.

 

***

 

Makoto's birthday is a small event, even with Nagisa in charge of the party games. Haru makes all his favourite foods, and their small group meets at his house to celebrate. Baking hasn't really been the focus of his latest cooking lessons, but he's pretty confident in his cake anyway – chocolate and cream and cherries.

Both Rin and Rei gift him books, Nagisa following up with a small phone charm – similar in design to the one he'd given Haru a few months before. Gou gives him a gift card to their local music store, as well as a tissue pocket cover decorated like a cat. The birthday boy thanking them all as he unwraps each gift, carefully saving the wrapping paper.

Haru's gift is a scarf – one he embroidered pawprints onto, white speckles against the orange fabric – already hanging with Makoto's coat in the front hall; having given it to him that morning when the brunet had met him on the steps to walk to school. Thanked with one of Makoto's signature hugs, soft kiss atop black hair, another on his lips quickly following.

But now it was after school, Makoto taking the rare day off from cram school to celebrate with his friends; paper decorations hung around the small living room, cups and plates stacked, empty. It won't be that big of a clean-up job, but Haru wouldn't have cared either way; they're in good company, happy and satisfied.

Haru clears away the dirty dishes as Nagisa retells an absurd story, Rin laughing at the impression the blond is making of Rei. Warm water fills the sink, and the soap bubbles shine his reflection. Plates clink as he works through them, cream and sugar and sauce dissolving in the suds. He's just about to place the first plate into the drainer to dry when Makoto joins him, slipping away from his own party – dishcloth in one hand, ready.

“Don't worry about that, I can do it,” silently urging his best friend to relax in the other room, smiling when he can see his friend scratch at his neck sheepishly.

“You shouldn't have to do this all yourself, Haru. Together we'll get through it in half the time.” Stacking the few dishes he's already finished, ready to be put away; Haru handing him the next few, perfectly in sync until the small stack is done. His hands are red after being submerged for so long, still damp despite drying them. Makoto is leaning on the countertop, hands supporting his weight as he looks to his boyfriend, fond. Haru moving to stand in front of him.

“Happy birthday, Makoto.”

Green eyes close, head tilting as he smiles back; taking both hands in his, pulling Haru close. “You already wished me a happy birthday earlier,” hooking a loose strand of dark hair behind a pale ear.

“Doesn't matter, I'm saying it again.”

Leaning close, he kisses Makoto full – arms moving to loop around his neck. Heavy inhale through his nose, tongue tangling as the other's jaw moves, allows. Chocolate lingering from the cake, just adding another layer of sweetness to the sensation. Connecting and reconnecting again and again and again; soft little noises spilling, and Haru's not sure who's responsible for them. Well, technically, both of them are responsible for the situation anyway, so it doesn't really matter. Caught up in the feeling, still breathtaking, no matter how often it happens – which it does, readily. Warm hands at his back, his sides, in his hair.

A subtle cough breaks them apart, Makoto blushing bright when he realises they've been caught. Rin's blushing too, but not enough to actually embarrass him all that much.

“OK, OK, you two; we all know you're soulmates and shit, but try and save it for when we're not five feet away.” Dumping a dirty glass they'd missed onto Haru's small dining table. “Let us have one afternoon with Makoto, Haru; jeez.” Blue eyes rolling at the complaint.

They rejoin the rest of their friends, Nagisa elbowing Rei in a knowing way; Kou sighing at the lot of them. Party poppers crack, another round of games by Nagisa's suggestion. Laughter and music and happiness filling the room and floating on the afternoon breeze.

It isn't until the sun is sinking on the horizon – earlier each day with winter closing in – that the birthday celebrations wind to a close; orange light streaming through the back porch, a silent signal for the end of the party. Rei and Nagisa leave together, off to study for their own upcoming test, and Rin taking Gou home before heading back to the dorms. Both siblings wave as they head down the steps, heading towards the train station.

They watch them leave, staying outside, admiring the setting sun for a little while afterwards. Haru heading in first, Makoto following soon after – finding his boyfriend, blue eyes and dark eyelashes, looking at him from the stairs; both hands behind him as he stretches his back a little.

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course; it was nice to just relax with everyone for a change.” A welcome breather after endless days of cram school and not much else.

“I'm glad,” Haru pulling his tall friend down to kiss him again, light and breathy; green eyes sparkling with a now-familiar shade of affection. “Do you want your present now?”

“You already gave me a gift, Haru; I don't need anything else.” A little oblivious to what Haru's thinking, eyes widening as the lithe swimmer presses his body to his.

They've only ventured into _going farther_ a little; an exhilarating but quick grinding the most they've done – not that Haru hasn't been willing and ready; more than a few nights spent with his hands down his pants thinking of Makoto. Their shared lack of time the biggest reason for the slow progress, rather than anything else.

“This gift is a little different,” chest-to-chest, grinding a little against the front of Makoto's pants. “It's not really something you can unwrap in front of everyone.”

*

Haru's original plan had been to try out his heavily-researched tips for oral sex, focusing on Makoto for the few hours before he was due for birthday dinner with his family. Instead, though, Haru's found himself on the bed, pants off, as Makoto kneels between his legs; kissing lines between his thighs. Bold despite the earlier stuttering blush he'd had when they'd moved to the bedroom – wanting to experience his birthday present a little differently than Haru had expected. Strong hands touching wherever the taller feels brave enough to try – getting bolder with every reaction Haru gives.

It hadn't taken much to get to this point – Makoto kissing him breathless; careful lips dragging down to his clavicle, his earlobe when they break apart. He's still wearing his shirt, but Makoto hadn't let it hinder his exploratory touch – Haru moaning close-mouthed against the pressure on his nipples, the pleasurable tickles against his sides and back, warm kiss at his navel.

He's already pretty hard, nerves aflame and sensitive, biting his lip as the brunet's warm breath brushes over his skin. Soft nip on pale inner thighs, large hands running up and down the top of his legs – smoothing firm circles into his hips as Haru grips at the sheets; propped up on his elbows, watching the mesmerising movement of his best friend.

There's a heavy moment of hesitation – blue and green meeting, both teens swallowing thickly at the tension.

“You don't have to, Makoto.” Perfectly happy for this to be as far as it goes; doesn't want Makoto to feel pressured into doing anything he's not comfortable with. Sees the small smile directed at him.

“Haru, I...” eyes flickering to Haru's cock, hardening even more as the younger licks his lips a little. “I've had more dreams about this exact situation than I'd care to admit, so I'm, uh. I want to,” blush bright, slight groan over his self-inflicted embarrassment. Haru just curses, his own blush creeping up his neck – _extremely_ interested at the new information.

Large fingers pull softly at the hard skin, friction enough to get Haru whining, hips lifting into the touch. Tongue flat and wet as he laps at the red tip, precum beading. Licks wet lines up and down the length of his shaft, nose nuzzling the base as he suckles the sensitive skin between his cock and his balls.

Haru's trying hard to keep his noises low, but loses all control when Makoto finally sucks his cock into his mouth – low whine evolving into a full keen; can feel the strong tongue circling around the head, firm lips suctioning as he inches down. Eyes rolling back as his head lolls, hands gripping and regripping their hold on the bedsheets – sharp inhale when he feels Makoto's fingers intertwine with his; holding his hand, a point to ground himself. Squeezing hard, feeling Makoto hum in response.

His head is bobbing at a more steady pace now, each downward suction a little deeper than before; it feels too good, and Haru's just moaning unbrokenly now, free arm moving to cover his mouth in a futile attempt to quiet himself. The room is hot, muggy despite the cool weather, and he's sweating; everything outside this feeling, this bubble of Makoto and Haruka, inconsequential.

Makoto pulls off, kissing the tip before swallowing a little, tip of the tongue running along the ridge. Another soft bite on Haru's thigh has him snapping back up to look at his boyfriend; green eyes dark in dilation, half-shuttered as he licks more precum from Haru's cock. It's the single most attractive thing Haru's seen, and he can feel the way he jolts in his friend's grip.

“Don't cover your mouth,” hand stroking as he talks, voice a little raspy. “I want to hear the noises you make.”

“E-embarrassing,” but he complies anyway, another moan when the brunet licks his tip again, warm breath blowing over the sensitive slit.

“You're so pretty, Haru.” Green eyes dark in dilation, heated stare heavy on his skin. “Better than anything I've ever dreamed.”

“Ahh, f-fuck.” He's already close, and Makoto's words keep driving him to the edge. “Don't stop... d-don't. Mako – Ma- _aahh_.”

Makoto's not bobbing nearly as much as he was, instead swallowing the swollen cock, humming around the thickness – appreciating his lack of gag reflex for the first time in his life. Deep breath with the last few centimeters slipping past his lips; sharp exhale escaping from his nose, tickling against the base. Warm and wet, a little saliva escaping from the corner of his mouth, despite the suction.

Long strokes with his mouth, Makoto loosening and tightening his lips as he goes. Haru's breathing is getting shallow, hips thrusting a little as he starts getting frantic – so close to ecstasy. Makoto's free hand moving from squeezing muscled thigh to cup at his balls, barely a tickle as they contract up, heavy; the freestyler close to cumming, legs shaking.

“Ma- _aaahhh_ , _**ahh**_ Mako; I, I'm -”

The brunet pulls up, only the head of Haru's cock left in the wetness of his mouth – pointer finger moving down to slightly rub against the puckered pink of his rim, the other hand still holding Haru's, squeezing tight.

Haru cums hard – head hitting the mattress as he arches his back, Makoto swallowing around his cock. Spurt after spurt, toes curling, and both legs are shaking hard. Stimulating hums from Makoto's mouth shoot pleasure up his spine – whiting out as he moans long and loud. He feels like he's floating, his mind fuzzy as he drifts down from his high.

“Y-you too,” bonelessly trying to pull Makoto up, when he finally stops his sucking and swallowing; tall boy hard and untouched in his pants the entire time.

Haru shifts, enough to let Makoto move to the bed – knees either side of thin hips as Haru draws him closer, pulling at his shoulders. Freeing himself from his pants, leaning over to kiss Haru's cheek, Makoto's pulling at himself – cock swollen and flushed and leaking; small whimpers betraying how close he is.

Haru can't move much from his position under the solid frame of his best friend, arms moving up to hook behind his neck and pull the brunet closer; leans as close as he can, right next to Makoto's ear. “What do you need?”

“Not, _ahh_ , not much,” rhythm stuttering as he tries to focus on what he's saying, Haru's lips brushing softly against the shell of his ear. “Can y-you – _**aah**_ – say my name again?”

Haru gets even closer, licking his boyfriend's ear, licking his own lips; kissing his open mouth, tasting himself on the other's tongue. He's out of breath, and too far gone to feel the embarrassment that would usually be hitting him at this exact moment, but that doesn't matter.

“ _ **I hope you like your present, Makoto.**_ ”

Hot cum hits his stomach, softening cock and thighs; Makoto grinding against him, silent cry as he spills. It's a moment before the taller goes boneless; collapsing to the side – Haru's arms still around his neck; the older pressing whispers to his collarbone, rolling so they're face-to-face.

It takes a minute for Makoto to blink sleepily, dopey smile on his face; Haru kissing the corner of his mouth softly, Makoto returning the thought with a kiss to his nose. Haru's arm is stuck underneath the other's head, cooling cum on his lower half, sticky and thick, but the weeks of sleepless nights and stressful study have dissolved like seafoam – relaxed and happy and just a little closer to his boyfriend. Dragging a finger though the white puddles on his stomach, Haru sucks it into his mouth, tasting the heady slick of his boyfriend for the first time – huffing a little in laughter when he hears Makoto's whine at that.

“Don't do that, Haru.”

“You don't like it?” Purposefully batting his eyes, smile half-curled.

“I like it too much,” smushing his face into the mattress, trying to hide his blush. Voice barely a whisper with, “you're too sexy, Haru.” Green eyes squeezed shut in his embarrassment, not noticing the choked laugh that caused; Haru kissing each eyelid before lifting himself up.

“Come on; I need to get cleaned up, and you need to get ready to go back home; I'm sure your family has something nice planned for your birthday.” Grabbing tissues from his desk to wipe up the rest of Makoto's cum, discarding his now-sweaty shirt with the rest of his clothes for the laundry.

Makoto tucks himself away, taking one of his old tees when Haru offers it – one of the many he's left at the Nanase home.

“You're invited to dinner too, you know. Mom's expecting you, and the twins have missed their favourite big brother.”

“I'm not their favourite – and I don't want to intrude on your family's celebrations.”

Makoto just looks at him unimpressed, eyebrows raised as he pulls on the worn fabric of his shirt. “Have you ever intruded, Haru? Even before we started dating, my family loved you,” watching Haru gather up his stray clothes for the hamper. “We want you there – I want you there.”

Slim teen stops at the door, and all Makoto can see is his fair back, pale ass – blush burning when he realises he's staring. Haru slightly shuffling from one foot to the other, quiet in contemplation.

“Let me shower first; I'll be quick.”

 

***

 

The clock points to just past eleven thirty, Haru cleaning up his station at the restaurant. Couples fill the stores and restaurants of Iwatobi, celebrating Christmas together, so it's been a busy night. It's the first day of winter break, and he's looking forward to getting home and sleeping – has a lot to prepare for the next semester.

Despite the holiday crowd, the owner's let him and a few of the waitresses leave right at the end of their shift. He personally doesn't have any plans aside from collapsing into bed, but he's grateful all the same. The stainless steel worktops shine as he scrubs them, hand covering his mouth as he yawns a little.

Once he's done, Haru grabs his coat and scarf from the employee area, winter weather full force in the seaside town. He bids goodnight to the other kitchen staff on duty and Head Chef Takamura, their own _'good work'_ echoing back as he leaves with a half wave.

The wind is biting, moon bright in the dark sky, trees all around glittering with coloured lights. Dozens of couples, arm in arm, stroll down the main road together – stopping to admire decorations or storefronts periodically.

He hadn't been expecting anything for Christmas with how busy they've both been; so it's a pleasant surprise when he sees Makoto outside, waiting in the bright light coming from the windows. His hair is tousled enough that Haru can't tell whether it's from the wind, or whether his boyfriend dragged himself out of bed to meet him here. Either way, he can't keep his impassive expression in place long enough to overtake the smile.

“What are you doing here?”  
  
“I wanted to walk you home,” smiling in his usual way, like it isn't late and cold. “Plus, I needed a break from studying; some fresh air.”

“You could have waited inside, you know.” Sasaki, the head waitress, wouldn't have minded, he's sure.  
  
“I didn't want to disrupt your work; it's not that bad out here anyway.”

“Don't blame me if you get sick.” Watching the sheepish way Makoto chuckles – head ducking down, shadows playing across his skin.  
  
“I'll keep that in mind.” Hand out, offering.

It's not that far to their houses, but neither boy is in any rush; walking slower than normal, hand-in-hand. The wind _isn't_ as strong as he'd thought, and Makoto's fingers are comfortably warm interweaved in his. Muffled talking and laughter drifts from one of the local izakaya, happy atmosphere of the holiday capturing the people of the town. He can't hear the waves lapping against the shore – instead, the jaunty tunes of carols drifting into the night.

He's a little surprised when they keep going up the stairs – past his house, up to the shrine – but the unspoken _'I don't want to say goodnight to you yet'_ is clear in his boyfriend's expression when he turns back to look at Haru. The moon reflects bright against the water, and the sky is glittering with stars. They sit side-by-side, Haru leaning against the taller as he does; closing his eyes, he focuses on the night around them – calm enough to fall asleep if he wasn't careful. Makoto's thumb tracing small circles on the back of his hand.

“Are you tired, Haru?”

He hums a little, but blinks his eyes open. Sees Makoto looking at him, expectant. “I'm fine, don't worry.” Head shifting where it rests on Makoto's shoulder, “just comfortable.”

The taste of the salty air is on his tongue, snuggling closer against Makoto's side. The taller teen moves his arm to circle around him, head moving to rest on Haru's. “Everything's gone so quickly, Haru – it's hard to believe that in a few months we're going to be university students.”

“Not if you keep slacking off like this.” Tone neutral, but he's sure Makoto understands that it's just a tease. Smiles into his scarf as he hears his friend laugh quietly.

“Point taken,” It's picturesque, like a postcard – winter stars blanketing the world from above. Haru can feel the shift of Makoto's body, moving so they're just a little closer. Voice quiet as he continues. “So much is changing.”  
  
Haru just sighs, understanding, but not worried. “But we're going to be together, Makoto. Things will change, but we'll be together, so it doesn't matter.” Tokyo won't be Iwatobi, but Haru's made the choice he's happiest with. Hand moving to squeeze the one curled around his waist, pressing his smile into his boyfriend's shoulder. “Next year, and the year after, and the one after that, for as long as we want.”

It's not exactly quiet, but Haru can hear the sharp intake of breath above the distant noise of Christmas celebrations. Can feel their knees knocking together as Makoto hugs him a little – awkward as they sit, but welcome. The wind's stopped, and the night is calm – perfectly still.

“I love you, Haru.”

It takes a moment for him to fully process what's been said – eyes wide as he sits up, looking at Makoto. Fireworks explode in his chest, and his emotions choke everything he wants to say; it's the first time either of them has ever said it – out loud, in the open – and his boyfriend looks a little terrified, like he doesn't know how Haru's going to react.

Both hands go to Makoto's cheeks, leaning in so their foreheads are touching. Eyes closed momentarily as he collects himself – tries to keep the pounding of his heart from thumping too loud and overriding his thoughts. Green eyes waver a little as Haru looks straight on, neither teen even breathing from the tension.

“Me too,” Pushing every ounce of sincerity into his tone, his stare; hoping that Makoto can read even a fraction of what he's feeling in that moment, even if he can't quite say those words yet. Even though _love_ is the one word that still manages to choke him mute. “More than anything. Sorry I -”

“I know, Haru. It's OK.” Stroking the black fringe from his face, cheeks pink in happiness. “I just wanted to say it.”

Soft white snowflakes start to fall – the first for the season – as they sit close, forehead to forehead. Makoto grips Haru's hand a little, smile on his face at the timing; leaning in to kiss him slow and soft, despite looking like he's about to burst into tears (of relief? Of happiness? Haru isn't sure.). Warm fingers stroking the short hair at the nape of his neck, slight brushes of skin that send shivers down his spine more than the cold. Snow dusting their jackets, the moon still bright in the evening sky, just barely midnight.

Haru stands, the colourful lights and decorations of Iwatobi spread across the horizon – a stark contrast to the dark ocean, quiet and powerful, beyond the edge of the cliff. He's going to miss both of these views when he's in Tokyo, but they'll still be here when he returns – timeless and unchanged.

Hand still linked with Makoto's, he finds it easy to smile – warm and full and just for his best friend.

“Come on, Makoto; let's go home.”

 

***

 

Exams start soon after the third semester does; hundreds of thousands of teenagers across the country stressing over practice questions and filling cram classes full in a last-ditch effort to try and push their grades just a little higher 

Makoto rarely left his room most days; only joining his family for meals – tired and overworked – or to feed his fish. Watching their scales glimmer in the water; air filter bubbling lowly in the quiet of the house, soothing. Had his mother nudge him awake a handful of times where he'd quietly slipped into sleep in front of their tank. With both twins studying for middle school entrance exams themselves, the Tachibana home was much more subdued than usual whenever Haru visited.

The National Center Tests run two days, and the cold snap of January keeps Haru sniffling the entire time. He makes bento for the both of them to share; and together, huddled up against the cold, they eat lunch in the brisk outside. Makoto quickly kissing him before they head back inside for the second round of tests, a quiet 'good luck' whispered against his mouth before they break away.

Haru just smiling softly, “You too; good luck.”

It's late in the afternoon once the second day of testing ends, and they walk back together, hand in hand. Makoto's holding his hand, and they're sharing his warm gloves. The wind bites once they reach the beach, and Haru pulls Makoto to the sand. Brown shoes stomp into the untouched dunes, and Haru breaks their hand-holding as he stretches his arms wide – feeling the sea breeze strong against his face, bag in one hand, hair whipping around his face. He can feel Makoto strong behind him, hugging him close from behind after a moment. The white fur of his coat collar tickles against Haru's neck and the other boy's chin drops to rest on his shoulder.

Gulls cry as they glide on the wind, soft hush of the waves against the shore. Haru tilts his head, just enough for Makoto to do the same; eyes closing at the press of their lips, leaning in close as Makoto squeezes him tighter. Lips cold, chapped, perfect against his; deep breath through his nose.

Warmth radiates between them, and Haru's heart still does little flips when they're this close; exciting, but comfortable. Stomach leaping when Makoto spins him, pulling Haru closer as his tongue swipes, warm and wet. Even in broad daylight, exposed to passerby, Haru doesn't care; revelling in the way he can always taste chocolate in Makoto's mouth, heavy winter coat feeling a little too warm with his blush.

“It's been too long since we've done that,” lips pink, lopsided in a smile. The afternoon sun highlights the myriad of green in his eyes, and Haru tries to count all the different shades from this close. Just hums his agreement.

“You're invited for dinner again tonight, Haru; Mom doesn't like the idea of you not eating properly if you're studying.”

The older teen knows how concerned Makoto's mother can get, so it's not really a request. Her son inheriting the same concerned, caring nature. Smiling at the similarities.

“Sure; I'm looking forward to it.”

*

Haru and Makoto travel together to Tokyo for exams, staying with the Nanase's; they quiz each other the first two hours, falling into a comfortable silence for the rest.

Haru's mother had called the night before, just double-checking the logistics of having two eighteen-year-olds stay with them. They haven't lived with their son for years, but even so, they've always been a close family whenever they are together. Makoto hasn't seen either of Haru's parents since obon last year, so he's been a little nervous at how it will go – even more so now that they're dating. Can't remember whether Haru said he'd told them yet or not.

He chews his lip raw, flipping through flashcards as he tries to get his mind off the idea; only refocusing on the chemical equation he'd been staring at when Haru takes his free hand in both of his, massaging soothing patterns into his palm.

“What's wrong?”

“Just nervous, I guess.” The scenery speeding past on the bullet train; snow covered country between cityscapes.

“About what? Not the exam...?”

“No, just,” hand hanging a little, ashamed and embarrassed, “seeing your parents.” He doesn't quite know how to explain the apprehension – whether he'll be accepted by Haru's parents as more than their son's best friend; but there have always been things that Haru's understood about him more than he does – so instead of possibly getting offended or annoyed, he just lifts his hand to kiss the knuckles, blue eyes softening in a smile.

“They like you, Makoto.” Straightforward, like it's obvious. Haru's quiet way of consolation. “They always have.”

Haru had told them over his New Year's visit only a few weeks before, but he hadn't been worried about it. His mother just wishing them the best, happy her son had found someone he could happily rely on; his father just nodding in agreement – telling him, as a man, to look after Makoto. Sharing a plate of ozōni as the Kōhaku shifts to another white team performance – Haru's dad bopping his head a little when the music picks up, his son and wife scoffing a little at the off-key singing he starts in time with the pretty idol on the screen.

It doesn't take long to walk to the apartment from the station, Haru leading Makoto by a hand through the streets of Tokyo. Their bags mean they cut through the crowds easily, commuters giving them a wide berth to avoid bumping into their luggage.

The apartment complex is fairly old, but the interior had been renovated just before his parents had moved to Tokyo full-time; the elevators a little slow as they move to their floor.

Haru's mother greets them when they arrive – hugging both boys as they step out of the genkan – warm meal ready for them both, sitting to join them as she asks about Makoto's family. The sun sinking as they talk, afternoon bleeding into evening.

Haru's father gets back from work sometime after seven, greeting his family before welcoming Makoto to their home. Haru had been assisting his mother with dinner, the brunet helping to set the table as his hosts busy themselves in the kitchen. Makoto's subjected to another round of questions from Haru's father, laughing and interested about the people back in Iwatobi – asking about the twins' study and how his parents have handled the idea of losing their oldest to Tokyo.

It's not quite the same as being back home in the house along the coast – twins bickering over their food, Makoto's father contently smiling when they settle, his mother serving food to them all, Haru holding his hand under the table – but Makoto likes the familiarity anyway. Knows that they're lucky to have such wonderful families, as different as they are.

Happy that this doesn't have to change.

*

“How do you think you went?” Makoto waiting patiently by the building entrance, hands in both pockets; still cold in the winter weather despite the higher temperatures.

“Pretty well, I think,” shrugging as Makoto links their hands. “My reference was good, so they seemed impressed. I have to remember to thank Chef Takamura again.”

“I'm glad; I was looking at all the rewards this place has in the offices over there,” nodding towards another small building as they walk. “This place is really impressive.”

The trees are bare, a few culinary students milling around under the grey sky. It had threatened rain in the forecast, but thankfully it seemed like it would hold off until they got back to his parents apartment.

With Haru's interview, it signified the end of all their university testing – now all they could do was wait for results.

It also meant they could relax for the first time in weeks, and Haru had a couple ideas on how he wanted to. His mother was at her part-time job as a secretary until the early evening, and his dad at the office like usual. Blood pumps loudly in his ears at the possibilities, hand gripping tighter as he picks up the pace.

They don't say much as they make their way back to the apartment complex; and if Makoto is questioning why they're heading back so quickly, he doesn't ask.

The second his shoes are off, he's pulling Makoto up to kiss him – hands in his hair, coaxing his tongue with his own. Sucking the other teen's tongue into his mouth as he pulls him closer, lips slick with saliva as the strong muscle pushes into his mouth.

It only takes a second before Makoto's using his height advantage to push Haru up against the hallway wall, drinking down the moans that start spilling from the older. Strong hands move to his hips, massaging where they touch, travelling beneath the thick fabric of Haru's waistband, denim tight over the back of his hands. Crotches rub against each other as they kiss – Makoto nipping at his bottom lip in affection, Haru moaning at the feeling.

“Be-bedroom?”

“Hurry.”

Makoto's futon fills the majority of the floorspace; left out from the night before in their hurry to leave earlier. Haru's thankful; knows they can keep kissing sooner this way, and pulls at the fabric of Makoto's shirt.

“I want your fingers in me, Makoto,” has been thinking about it a lot recently; the thick stretch of his boyfriend's fingers opening him up, rubbing places he's only reached a handful of times by himself. “Fill me up.”

The dirty talk is Haru's way of telling his boyfriend that he wants this too; lets Makoto know that he isn't forcing Haru to follow his whims – something he'd worried about for longer than the older could know. An easy solution they'd figured out during their few physical explorations since Makoto's birthday.

“Do you -?”

“In the bag over there,” pointing to his shopping bag from the day before; Haru visiting the pharmacy once his exam had finished, going across town to meet up with Makoto once his own ended.

Makoto retrieves the bottle of lube, holding it in one hand as he draws Haru into another kiss – hot and purposeful. Shirts thrown to one side, Makoto struggling with the button of Haru's jeans onehandedly; letting the shorter boy finish removing his pants, slim hands then moving to Makoto's.

It doesn't take long until they're naked – both drinking in the sight of the other as toned muscles shift. A pert nipple pinched by large hands, cockheads brushing against each other, and Haru feels weak at the knees from the sensitivity. The lube must have been dropped because both of Makoto's hands are on him – one firmly squeezing his ass cheek, the other cupping his jaw. Haru struggles with both hands to encircle their shafts, hard skin getting even harder under his touch.

“You're leaking a lot already.”

“Was thinking about you the entire way here,” green eyes dark, tongue licking at his bottom lip. “Been thinking about you for weeks, actually.”

“Me too,” breaking away to lie on the futon, back to the ground, legs spread. “I'm impatient.”

“God, Haru, you're so perfect.” Sliding close, one hand caressing the soft skin between his asscheeks. Kissing hard, almost bruising; panting heavily when they break apart again. “Too perfect for me.”

“Only for you.”

Makoto's hips thrust a little at that, both cocks lining up and brushing again. Broken curses as they try to catch their breath, Haru moaning Makoto's name around a bit lip. Makoto kisses him again, foreheads touching when he retracts.

“Turn over onto your knees, Haru.” Blue eyes blink back before the lithe body rolls, knees spread; one arm pulling a cheek apart, the other resting under his head, muffling another moan.

The fresh bottle of lube opens with a crack, and Makoto takes no time coating his fingers. Kissing down Haruka's spine as he waits for it to warm, one finger rubbing soft circles into his pink rim once it does.

His fingertip slips in fairly easy – Haru moaning at the unusual thickness. A slow push into the tight heat as the older's breath hitches, pushing back with his body in encouragement. Pulling out to allow a second finger to join the first, Makoto uses his other hand to brush down Haru's chest. The stretched moans of his boyfriend ringing in his ears, his cock jerking in interest as the strong muscles of Haru's ass squeeze around the intrusion. Curling the two stretches him a little wider, and an unplanned brush a little deeper has Haru grabbing at his cock, snapping his hips back on Makoto's fingers.

“Again.” Both fingers slipping deeper into Haru's hole, Makoto groaning at the way the muscled rim slips over his knuckles so easily. “I need more, Makoto.”

Another finger worms in, three stuffing Haru wide. It's too attractive, something so thick disappearing into such a small space – Makoto's cock dripping messily on his thigh as he watches, mesmerised. Haru pushes himself back, again and again, forcing Makoto's fingers into himself, up against his prostate. His mouth is hanging open, the futon wet where saliva soaks in. He's pulling roughly at his cock, chasing the feeling of having Makoto inside of him, and is gets him _so hot_. Sweat drips into his eyes as he's getting desperate, wanting more than fingers, wanting so much more. Doesn't know if he can get his voice to work well enough to let Makoto know.

Another shove pushes him over that precipice, and everything he was thinking about is lost to the waves of pleasure crashing over him. He's cumming messily across the futon below, ass clenching hard against the thick fingers inside of him. Can hear Makoto moaning behind him.

He can hardly feel the fingers slipping out from his ass, both of Makoto's hands spreading his cheeks wide now. Hot cock rubbing up and down the crease of his ass, lube and precum slicking them against each other. Haru's hips being drawn back again and again, Makoto thrusting, his soft chanting of Haru's name filling the room until it's all the older can hear. Knows he needs to help his boyfriend reach the same warm place he's gotten to – and the most effective way is with his words; that they affect Makoto more than anything else.

“Ma-Makoto, mess me up.” Doesn't know if he's even making sense, but it sounds right. “Mess me up with your cum.”

He can feel the hot release hitting his back, can feel Makoto curl over him. Forehead at his shoulderblades, hard cock still nestled between his ass cheeks. The groan Makoto makes sends another jolt to his spent cock, hand gripping lightly where it's curled around it.

He doesn't have to say anything, just falls into the hug Makoto drops them into. Strong arms around his waist, lying back-to-chest. Soft kisses at the back of his neck, against the shell of his ear. Sweet almost-whispers of love mumbled into his hair – Haru breathing the atmosphere in deep.

Calm and at peace, he falls asleep with nothing but thoughts of Makoto in his mind.

 

***

 

Graduation goes faster than either of the two eighteen-year-olds are really prepared for, and it's barely a week later that they're waving goodbye to the Tachibanas and their friends at the train station; belongings boxed up and sent with the moving company the day beforehand. Haru leaves the keys to his grandmother's home with them, and Makoto's mother promises to keep them safe for whenever the two need to return to Iwatobi.

Their apartment is smack-dab in the middle of Shinjuku, right between both their universities – Hattori Nutrition College and Nippon Sports Science University – a prime location that one of Haru's father's contacts had arranged. It's not large, but much nicer than anywhere else two newly-minted out-of-town university students could afford.

It's almost immediate how they fall back into an easy routine with each other. Waking up together each morning, going to sleep together each night. Makoto steals blankets and Haru's feet are always cold, there's always too much fish and too much chocolate for two people, and the bath is too small for one, let alone two. It isn't perfect, but they wouldn't change a thing.

Together they're a home.

*

Middle school is a pain, Ran informs them over the phone, but she's finally finished decorating Makoto's old room to her liking. Ren asks whether Tokyo is fun, and Haru tells him the city's not much to get excited about, but the company's the best. Makoto muffles his laugh into Haru's neck, the phone on speaker on the low table of their living room. Both young Tachibanas have been feeding the stray cats under Haru's strict instructions, and all are doing well, he's glad to hear.

Nagisa mails Haru almost every day – emoji-filled and exuberant, the older can't help a small smile whenever his phone chimes with Nagisa's tone. Other times Rei mails; well-written and comprehensive. He sends team updates to Makoto periodically too, and the team has grown with both first and second-years. Kou sends pictures, and short reminders about staying in shape – splitting her time between training the new manager for the team and keeping the boys in line. Both Makoto and Haru laugh at the picture of her; hands on hips, imposing as she stands before the cowering new recruits.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

*

Haru finds himself improving steadily; so much so he barely realises it until Makoto compliments him on the taste of his curry – eyes wide as he takes another bite – quick to amend that he's always loved his boyfriend's cooking, but tonight it's something even better.

Collecting the dirty dishes, he pecks his boyfriend thank you as he passes; glad that he's able to make something delicious for the person he cares about. Needs to remember if he'd done anything different for tonight's meal, or if it was just better prep work – honing his skill.

They wash the dishes together; Makoto taking his usual spot, ready with the tea towel. It's quiet but comfortable; only the splash of water between them. Natural, like everything about their relationship.

He's so glad.

*

Makoto's gained some muscle in the short time he's joined a couple of his university friends at the gym on campus. Some of his shirts are fitting tighter around his arms, his chest, and Haru's been shooting admiring stares at him for a very long time. The brunet loves the burning feeling of exercise in his bones; the familiar strain from high school, preparing for nationals.

He's invited Haru a few times to join them, but it's never been convenient to meet so far from his school – the former freestyler instead spends his off time at his local pool, not nearly as nice as the ITSCR, doing lazy laps. His lithe frame has lost some of its former tone, but he's not out of shape either – easily proving the point if they have to run for the train, always a few steps ahead of his best friend.

The biggest difference in their workout routine is the sex, though – Haru's legs raised over Makoto's arms as he's being thrust into, strong frame keeping him in place against the wall. The lovely slick-slide of thick cock into his ass as his rubs between their stomachs. The lube bottle falls to the floor noisily – forgotten once it had served its purpose.

He'd barely managed to finish prep for the night's dinner when Makoto had arrived home, keyed up and mouthing at Haru's neck as soon as he'd stepped in the door. He doesn't know what overtakes his sweet boyfriend on nights like these – a need for reassurance, something running through his blood, a suggestive tease from one of his university friends – but he loves the power it creates. A different shade of his best friend that's rarely shown – his soft touches and careful caresses falling to the wayside for solid muscle and overwhelming confidence – something Haru really loves. Loves that he's the one Makoto seeks solace in, through his body or otherwise.

A powerful thrust has him moaning loud, long, enough that the neighbours may complain again, but he doesn't care. Makoto growls lowly, kissing Haru hard before biting at the juncture between shoulder and neck. The sting fades into a mild throb, just another sensation building as their thrusts push faster, harder; large hands moving to Haru's hips for more leverage.

“You're mine,” sucking hard at the new bruise on white skin, cock jerking a little against the hard squeeze of Haru's rim that causes.

“All yours.”

“You like it hard, don't you?” Thigh muscles against his, balls swinging with each thrust.

“And deep – fill me full, Makoto.”

Rather than reply, the brunet pulls out completely; the sense of loss immediate. Instead of the quick re-entry Haru's expecting, both hands move to hug him tightly, moving off the wall to go farther into the apartment. Looping both arms around Makoto's neck to keep balanced as they walk, ankles locking around his hips, not sure where they're going. His back hits the dining table, legs splaying wide as Makoto looks to him, hands now free to roam across Haru's chest – pinching both nipples as he does. Travelling to pump at Haru's cock, stiff and hard, wet with leaking precum. The other hand teasingly rubbing against his hole, soft tingles shooting up his spine.

Makoto's head burns red, lining up to push in again – slowly, inching in – both teens growling in pleasure. He's hitting deep, deeper than he was able to when they were against the wall, and every inch feels amazing. Neither is wearing a condom – which isn't that unusual, especially for spur-of-the-moment sex like today – but it means the heat, the pressure, burns him from the inside out. Feet hooking at the base of Makoto's spine, he pushes hard, smacking himself down the last few centimeters.

The pace picks up again, hard hitting of skin on skin as the brunet pulls almost all the way out, pushes all the way in, and Haru doesn't know if it's even possible for sex to feel this good. He doesn't dare touch himself for fear of cumming too soon – of ending this incredible experience; the squeak of the table against the floor cutting through the grunts and moans and pleas of _faster, harder, more_. Brain short-circuiting until all he can think of is Makoto, Makoto, Makoto.

He can tell he's close – the way his breath hitches, his muscles along his back jumping, the slight disjointedness of his thrusts as he rams into Haru again and again – all of them easy signs. Every thrust punctuated with their names; _Harukas_ and _Makotos_ filling the air. White heat surges through his entire body, exploding thickly as musk and cum; pulse after pulse splashing across his body, Makoto fucking it out of him. He screams until his voice breaks, rough thrusts still rocking his entire being, throat wheezing by the end of it. 

His boyfriend had started his own orgasm sometime after Haru did, filling him up with warm wetness – so much that it drips even as he's still thrusting through it. Sloppily kissing at Haru's neck as he pulls out – stimulation of sensitive muscles enough to pull another round from the blue-eyed teen, a silent cry as more spasms from his cock spray him with white stickiness, hand weakly pulling at it. Cum across his stomach and chest, cum dripping from his ass. He feels satiated and full, Makoto looking like he's still trying to recover from what looked like an amazing orgasm – cock still at half-mast, thick and red and wet; enough for maybe another round, as soon as Haru regains some feeling in his legs.

There's a long moment where neither says anything, green eyes glowing, locked onto blue – a small smile shared between friends and a conversation where words aren't needed. Makoto leans closer, Haru propping himself up as best he can; lips meeting in another kiss as large hands cradle his back – slower, more heartfelt than before – and Haru's heart picks up the pace just a little.

They skip dinner that night.

*

Haru never thought he'd be a cuddler before he started dating Makoto, but he's since realised there's something comforting about waking up with an arm around his waist, warm breath ruffling through his hair and across his skin. The window in their bedroom is bright with morning light, Sundays one of the few days they can sleep in like this. No classes, no extracurriculars.

Makoto's still asleep, chest rising and falling in calm rhythm. He's stolen most of the blankets during the night, and Haru laughs at the sight of the blue bedspread tangled around his legs. His boyfriend huffs a little at the sound, smiling in his sleep – arm pulling Haru closer.

Green eyes crack open, heavy with sleep; jolting a little when Haru runs a foot against his calf, displeased groan smothered by his pillow.

“Your feet are cold.” Half of a disapproving mumble.

“Your fault; you stole all the blankets again.” Hand brushing brown hair across the sleepy teen's forehead - waiting for Makoto to wake up properly. The taller had never been a morning person, so early morning conversations were usually more than Makoto could handle. Running his foot between the two calves again, Haru leeches as much warmth as he can – Makoto just squeezing it tight where it's caught between his legs.

“Your feet are always cold, Haru,” blinking against the sunlight in his eyes, scrubbing at them with his free hand. “What time is it?”

“Dunno; not that early.” Doesn't want to move away from the blanketing warmth of their closeness to check the clock beside the bed. “Are you hungry?”

“Not enough to want to move,” mirroring his boyfriend's thoughts. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” only a lingering ache in his hips, muscle strain weirdly reminiscent of land training in high school. “You don't have to worry so much.”

“I don't like thinking I hurt you, Haru.” Biting his bottom lip as he averts his eyes, hand trailing down to find Haru's, fingers interweaving. “I know I can go overboard when we're, um,” blush creeping up his neck, “sometimes.”

Blue eyes soften; heart thumping at the consideration; humoured in how modest Makoto is about certain things. He moves to knock their foreheads together gently.

“You've never hurt me, Makoto.” The older student not strictly talking about sex now, but still telling the truth. “Never.”

“But I might.”

“Never,” blue eyes sharp, not letting Makoto avoid his gaze. Leaning to kiss his worried lip; soft, barely there. Lingering for another moment before rolling away in a stretch, pushing himself up to sit, feet swinging to the floor. “What do you want for breakfast?”

Strong arms grab him by the waist – heavy enough to stop him from moving any farther from his side of the bed.

“Don't just try to run away after that, Haru; that's cheating,” he teases. Makoto's head at his lower back, nuzzling against it.

The choice of words has Haru stilling; Makoto looking up at him concerningly when he feels the sudden change. Sitting up as well, Makoto lets Haru out of his makeshift grabbing hug; blue eyes wide and slightly scared when he turns to his boyfriend. That look making the brunet's heart drop to his stomach as he asks, “what's wrong?”

“Nothing; not really. I'm just being stupid.” One of Makoto's hands moves to touch his shoulder in support, and the older teen seizes the opportunity to draw close – head hooking over a shoulder, hugging himself around the large frame of his best friend. Makoto just quietly pulling him closer in an embrace – petting softly through black hair as he tries to be soothing. The skittishness and slight shake of the thin frame remind him of one of the local strays back in Iwatobi – the poor thing taking weeks before trusting either boy – and he can't help nuzzling his cheek against his boyfriend's ear.

They stay like that for longer than he can follow, the tension in Haru's demeanor melting in the warmth of their closeness as they sit hugging in the middle of their bed. The initial apprehension and confusion in the atmosphere giving way to comfortable trust, Makoto realising what Haru is trying to do – what he's trying to apologise for – squeezing him tighter into their hug. It's just another reminder of how conscientious – how emotionally sensitive – his quiet boyfriend is; even if no-one else can see it.

They only break apart when Makoto's stomach growls loudly, Haru trying to muffle a laugh with his hand. The former freestyler steps up off the bed, hand out, reaching for his best friend as his face shifts with a slight smile; the sharp sadness from before gone without a trace.

“Come on, it's time for breakfast.”

 

***

 

The air inside the train is muggy with summer heat, and Haru's bags are heavy on his shoulder. They're almost at their stop, and he can't wait until he can feel the sea breeze, cool and welcome. He's gotten more used to trains now that he has to use them everyday living in Tokyo, but even so, seven hours is just too long of a trip to be comfortable – they might fly next year instead. 

The twins are at the platform when they arrive, waving animatedly. The summer break had started a week prior, so both Ren and Ran are free from middle school – both taller than the last time Haru and Makoto had seen them. Ran jumps into a hug with Makoto as soon as they step out of the train, the tall brunet listening intently to his sister's chattering; Ren's hanging back – awkwardly moving closer to Haru, but trying hard to smother his wide smile; try and hide how excited he really is. Haru remembers the feeling well.

“You don't have to hug me, you know,” choking back the laugh that bubbles up at how taken aback the younger boy looks. “I know hugging isn't very cool for middle schoolers; especially not with your brother's boyfriend.”

Ren blushes bright and hangs his head, rushing into a hug before Haru can brace for impact. “Sorry, Haru-nii, ” arms squeezing him tight and head already at his chest – definitely taking after his brother.

“Move, Ren; I want to greet Haru-nii too,” Ran, always willful, pushing at her twin's arm. “Go say hi to Brother, jeez.”

“Don't rush him, Ran,” said brother teases, his big hand at Haru's back once the younger boy steps back; his sister stepping forward to fill Haru in on all the things that had happened in the five months since they had left.

Even from the platform station, Haru can smell the salt; the air cooler than inside the carriage. The summer sun is still high in the sky, despite being late afternoon – the days getting longer and longer – and both Haru and Makoto walk together with the twins back to the house at the foot of the stone steps to see the Tachibanas. Waves softly breaking on the sandy shore; something Haru had forgotten he'd missed as much as he had.

Deep breath of Iwatobi, Makoto's hand in his.

It's so nice to be back.

*

The street is filled with stalls; people from all over the train line coming to Iwatobi for the summer festival. Children weave through the crowds – yelling and laughing and bubbling with an excitement that only the festival could create. Haru and Makoto had come with Ren and Ran, but the two preteens had swiftly left them to meet with their friends – waving off the concerned questions Makoto starts to launch into.

Decorated lanterns light the path, taiko drums thumping in the distance. Makoto reaches for Haru's hand, hanging at his side, and it's instinct the way their fingers link together. Haru wins a plush squid at the shooting game, and they share takoyaki and yakisoba from the food stalls.

Nagisa pounces on Haru when he spots him – Rei, Kou and some of the new swim team trailing behind. Nagisa's not much taller than the last time they'd seen him, clinging around the former freestyler's waist as he launches into his greeting. One of the younger members looks like he's assessing whether to pull his vice-captain off, a worried crease between his eyes – looking to Rei in askance.

The Iwatobi High Swim Team has been spending the break preparing for Nationals – with both the butterfly, backstroke and mixed relay passing the prefecturals – and the two graduated can't help the pride that wells up when Nagisa shares how well they've been competing.

The new members greet them as alumni once the short blond detaches from Haru, bowing as they introduce themselves, and Makoto can't stifle the laugh quickly enough when Nagisa dismisses the formality with, “they're just Haru-chan and Mako-chan.” Many of the younger members blushing brightly at the memories of their own probable nicknames.

The walk around with the group for a while – promising to watch the team practice over the next couple days, to show their support in Tokyo if they reach Nationals again this year – and Haru is questioned by a bright-looking boy, trying to get some tips for freestyle. Whilst not completely annoying, it does mean that he and Makoto can't hold hands like they had been before.

It isn't until Nagisa yells loudly, pointing towards the squid catching, that they manage to slip away – their exuberant friend winking to them as they slip away, Rei smiling subtly; following with his own loud cry of interest as a fisherman struggles with the slippery animal in his arms, splashing around the shallow pool.

The steps to the lookout are quiet, like every year – most people enjoying the festival or splashing their feet in the shallow water of the beach. Yukata and sandals and a myriad of coloured fans and lanterns give the scene the true feeling of summer, and the colourful chaos below is familiar and welcome. Floating lanterns speckle the water, and the calm tide pulls them gently out to sea – golden light dancing atop the dark indigo of the evening ocean.

It's been a year since they'd been here last, side-by-side on this lookout, alone together. Memories of misunderstandings and sadness; the first time they had ever truly fought, framed by exploding colours and emotions. The moment Haru had realised something that now seemed obvious; that had seemed so hopeless at the time.

The night that something fragile had broken between them, Makoto's words still sometimes rising in his memories. How he'd sounded so sad, so tired, so desperate for Haru to understand why finding his dream, planning his future was so important.

Because they loved him.

Because _he_ loved him.

And he always had.

Haru leans close, resting his head on Makoto's right shoulder; eyes closed, drinking in the sounds of fun, the smell of salt and summer and Makoto. The memories of last year seem so long ago, so distant, that it's surprising at how raw they still feel. His heart squeezes tight, hands doing the same on the railing, comforted in how supportive Makoto is, even without words – right arm twining around to hold him closer. The night air is warm, but they aren't uncomfortable being so close, a low breeze cooling against their overheated skin. The taiko drums start up again, a little faster, and the thumping of them match Haru's heart.

He steps back, hand in Makoto's, and the two turn to face each other; Makoto smiling, Haru returning it before breathing in deep, settling the butterflies rising up in his gut.

“I love you, Makoto.”

It's the first time he'd truly said it – not an allusion or a whisper of intent – a declaration that had been growing for a year, longer. Makoto just smiles wider, eyes crinkling in a warm way, leaning in to touch their noses together.

“I know.”

This time, with pink and green and blue and yellow exploding among the stars, Haru doesn't run away.

 

***

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This was written for Tiffany who wanted get together/first-time fic for these two.  
> I learnt a lot writing this, and it has become the longest of my fics so far!! 
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WritingGee)!
> 
> And you can find more about my commission information [here](http://compulsive-bibliotaph.tumblr.com/commissions).


End file.
